PS 

ill 




THE RED 
SLOWER 

12>ems written inM&rBine 




HENRY 
A^NDYKE 




Class 



Book 



_J_ 



jghtTsi n ) 7 



CttKMGHT DEPOSE 



BY HENRY VAN DYKE 

Fighting for Peace 
The Unknown Quantity 
The Ruling Passion 
The Blue Flower 



Out-of-Doors in the Holy Land 
Days Off 
Little Rivers 
Fisherman's Luck 



Poems, Collection in one volume 



The Red Flower 

The Grand Canyon, and Other Poems 

The White Bees, and Other Poems 

The Builders, and Other Poems 

Music, and Other Poems 

The Toiling of Felix, and Other Poems 

The House of Rimmon 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 



THE RED FLOWER 



THE RED FLOWER 



POEMS WRITTEN IN WAR TIME 



BY 
HENRY VAN DYKE 

D. C. L. (OXON.) 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRLBNER'S SONS 

1917 



Copyright, 1916, 1917, by Charles Scribner's Sons 
Published November, 1917 *x\^ 



* « V\ 



Copyright, 1915, 191b, by The Outlook Company 

Copyright, iqib, 1917, by Harper &- Brothers 

Copyright, JQ16, by American Academy of Arts and Letters 

Copyright, JQl6, by The Kalon Publishing Company, Inc. 

Copyright, 1917, by The Independent 

Copyright, 1917, by The New York Times Company 




NOV 27 1917 

©CU479238 



PREFACE 

These are verses that came to me in this 
dreadful war time amid the cares and labors 
of a heavy task. 

Two of the poems, "A Scrap of Paper" 
and "Stand Fast," were written in 1914 and 
bore the signature Civis Americanus — the 
use of my own name at that time being im- 
possible. Two others, "Lights Out" and 
"Remarks about Kings," were read for me 
by Robert Underwood Johnson at the meet- 
ing of the American Academy in Boston, 
November, 1915, at which 1 was unable to 
be present. 

The rest of the verses were printed after 
I had resigned my diplomatic post and was 
free to say what I thought and felt, without 
reserve. 

The "Interludes in Holland" are thoughts 
of the peaceful things that will abide for all 
the world after we have won this war against 
war. 

Sylvanora, October 1, 1917. 



CONTENTS 

PREMONITION 

PAGE 

• The Red Flower (June, 1914) . . 3 

THE TRIAL AS BY FIRE 

„ A Scrap of Paper 7 

Stand Fast 8 

. Lights Out (1915) 10 

. Remarks about Kings 12 

* War-Music 13 

* Might and Right 16 

The Price of Peace 17 

• Storm-Music 18 

FRANCE AND BELGIUM 

• The Bells of Malines (August 17, 

1914) 23 

• The Name of France 26 

• Jeanne d'Arc Returns (1914-1916) 28 

INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND 

• The Heavenly Hills of Holland . 31 
The Proud Lady 33 

• Flood-Tide of Flowers (in Hol- 

land) 37 

[vii] 



ENTER AMERICA 

PAGE 

* America's Prosperity 41 

' The Glory of Ships 42 

- Mare Liberum 45 

Liberty Enlightening the World" 47 



• a 



The Oxford Thrushes (February, 
1917) 49 

. Homeward Bound 51 



[ viii ] 



PREMONITION 



THE RED FLOWER 
June, 1914 

In the pleasant time of Pentecost, 

By the little river Kyll, 
I followed the angler's winding path 

Or waded the stream at will, 
And the friendly fertile German land 

Lay round me green and still. 

But all day long on the eastern bank 

Of the river cool and clear, 
Where the curving track of the double rails 

Was hardly seen though near, 
The endless trains of German troops 

Went rolling down to Trier. 

They packed the windows with bullet heads 

And caps of hodden gray; 
They laughed and sang and shouted loud 

When the trains were brought to a stay; 
They waved their hands and sang again 

As they went on their iron way. 

No shadow fell on the smiling land, 

No cloud arose in the sky; 
I could hear the river's quiet tune 

When the trains had rattled by; 
But my heart sank low with a heavy sense 

Of trouble, — I knew not why. 
[3] 



Then came I into a certain field 

Where the devil's paint-brush spread 

'Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills 
A flaring splotch of red, — 

An evil omen, a bloody sign, 
And a token of many dead. 

I saw in a vision the field-gray horde 
Break forth at the devil's hour, 

And trample the earth into crimson mud 
In the rage of the Will to Power, — 

All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll, 
At the sign of the blood-red flower. 



[4] 



THE TRIAL AS BY FIRE 



A SCRAP OF PAPER 

"Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper ? " — Ques- 
tion of the German Chancellor to the British Ambas- 
sador, August 5, 1914. 

A mocking question ! Britain's answer 

came 
Swift as the light and searching as the 

flame. 

"Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight 
Till our last breath, and God defend the 
right ! 

"A scrap of paper where a name is set 
Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt. 

"A scrap of paper holds for man and wife 
The sacrament of love, the bond of life. 

"A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ 
With God's eternal word to hallow it. 

"A scrap of paper binds us both to stand 
Defenders of a neutral neighbor land. 

"By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We 
fight 
To keep our name upon that paper white." 

September, 1914. 

[7] 



STAND FAST 

Stand fast, Great Britain! 
Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand 
One in the faith that makes a mighty land, — 
True to the bond you gave and will not 

break 
And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake ! 
Against the Giant Robber clad in steel, 
With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel, 
Striding through France to strike you down 

at last, 

Britain, stand fast! 

Stand fast, brave land! 
The Huns are thundering toward the citadel; 
They prate of Culture but their path is Hell; 
Their light is darkness, and the bloody 

sword 
They wield and worship is their only Lord. 
O land where reason stands secure on right, 
O land where freedom is the source of light, 
Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast, 

Britain, stand fast ! 



[8] 



Stand fast, dear land ! 
Thou island mother of a world-wide race, 
Whose children speak thy tongue and love 

thy face, 
Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the 

strife, 
Their hands will break the sword that seeks 

thy life; 
Fight on until the Teuton madness cease; 
Fight bravely on, until the word of peace 
Is spoken in the English tongue at last, — 
Britain, stand fast! 

September, 1914. 



[9] 



LIGHTS OUT 

(1915) 

"Lights out" along the land, 

"Lights out" upon the sea. 

The night must put her hiding hand 

O'er peaceful towns where children sleep, 

And peaceful ships that darkly creep 

Across the waves, as if they were not free. 

The dragons of the air, 
The hell-hounds of the deep, 
Lurking and prowling everywhere, 
Go forth to seek their helpless prey, 
Not knowing whom they maim or slay — 
Mad harvesters, who care not what they 
reap. 

Out with the tranquil lights, 
Out with the lights that burn 
For love and law and human rights! 
Set back the clock a thousand years: 
All they have gained now disappears, 
And the dark ages suddenly return. 



[10] 



Kaiser who loosed wild death, 
And terror in the night — 
God grant you draw no quiet breath, 
Until the madness you began 
Is ended, and long-suffering man, 
Set free from war lords, cries, "Let there 
be Light." 

October, 1915. 

Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, 
November, 1915. 



[ii] 



REMARKS ABOUT KINGS 

"God said I am tired of kings." — Emerson. 

God said, "I am tired of kings,' ' — 

But that was a long while ago ! 

And meantime man said, "No, — 

I like their looks in their robes and rings." 

So he crowned a few more, 

And they went on playing the game as 

before, 
Fighting and spoiling things. 

Man said, "I am tired of kings! 
Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore, 
They make me pay for their lust and their 

war; 
I am the puppet, they pull the strings; 
The blood of my heart is the wine they 

drink. 
I will govern myself for awhile I think, 
And see what that brings!" 

Then God, who made the first remark, 
Smiled in the dark. 

October, 1915. 

Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, 
November, 1915. 



[12] 



WAR-MUSIC 

Break off ! Dance no more ! 

Danger is at the door. 

Music is in arms. 
To signal war's alarms. 

Hark, a sudden trumpet calling 

Over the hill ! 
Why are you calling, trumpet, calling? 

What is your will? 

Men, men, men ! 
Men who are ready to fight 
For their country's life, and the right 
Of a liberty-loving land to be 

Free, free, free ! 
Free from a tvrant's chain, 
Free from dishonor's stain, 
Free to guard and maintain 
All that her fathers fought for, 
All that her sons have wrought for, 

Resolute, brave, and free ! 

Call again, trumpet, call again, 
Call up the men* 



[IS] 



Do you hear the storm of cheers 

Mingled with the women's tears 
And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching 
feet? 

Do you hear the throbbing drum 

As the hosts of battle come 
Keeping time, time, time to its beat? 

O Music give a song 

To make their spirit strong 
For the fury of the tempest they must meet. 

The hoarse roar 
Of the monster guns; 
And the sharp bark 
Of the lesser guns; 
The whine of the shells, 
The rifles' clatter 
Where the bullets patter, 
The rattle, rattle, rattle 
Of the mitrailleuse in battle, 
And the yells 

Of the men who charge through hells 
Where the poison gas descends, 
And the bursting shrapnel rends 
Limb from limb 
In the dim 

Chaos and clamor of the strife 
Where no man thinks of his life 
But only of fighting through, 
Blindly fighting through, through ! 
[14] 



Tis done 
At last ! 

The victory won, 
The dissonance of warfare past! 

O Music mourn the dead 
Whose loyal blood was shed, 

And sound the taps for every hero slain; 
Then lead into the song 
That made their spirit strong, 

And tell the world they did not die in vain. 

Thank God we can see, in the glory of morn, 
The invincible flag that our fathers de- 
fended; 
And our hearts can repeat what the heroes 
have sworn, 
That war shall not end till the war-lust 
is ended. 
Then the bloodthirsty sword shall no longer 

be lord 
Of the nations oppressed by the conqueror's 
horde, 
But the banners of freedom shall peace- 
fully wave 
O'er the world of the free and the lands 
of the brave. 

May, 1916. 

[15] 



MIGHT AND RIGHT 

If Might made Right, life were a wild- 
beasts' cage; 

If Right made Might, this were the golden 
age; 

But now, until we win the long campaign, 

Right must gain Might to conquer and to 
reign. 

July 1, 1915. 



[16] 



THE PRICE OF PEACE 

Peace without Justice is a low estate, — 

A coward cringing to an iron Fate ! 

But Peace through Justice is the great 

ideal, — 
We'll pay the price of war to make it real. 

December 28, 1916. 



[17] 



STORM-MUSIC 

O Music hast thou only heard 
The laughing river, the singing bird, 
The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees, — 
Nothing but Nature's melodies? 
Nay, thou hearest all her tones, 
As a Queen must hear! 
Sounds of wrath and fear, 
Mutterings, shouts, and moans, 
Madness, tumult, and despair, — 
All she has that shakes the air 
With voices fierce and wild! 
Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming 

child, — 
Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign 
Triumphant in a world of storm and strain ! 

Echo the long-drawn sighs 
Of the mounting wind in the pines; 
And the sobs of the mounting waves that 
rise 
In the dark of the troubled deep 
To break on the beach in fiery lines. 
Echo the far-off roll of thunder, 

Rumbling loud 
And ever louder, under 
The blue-black curtain of cloud, 
Where the lightning serpents gleam. 
Echo the moaning 
[18] 



Of the forest in its sleep 
Like a giant groaning 
In the torment of a dream. 

Now an interval of quiet 
For a moment holds the air 
In the breathless hush 
Of a silent prayer. 

Then the sudden rush 
Of the rain, and the riot 
Of the shrieking, tearing gale 
Breaks loose in the night, 
With a fusillade of hail ! 
Hear the forest fight, 

With its tossing arms that crack and clash 
In the thunder's cannonade, 
While the lightning's forked flash 

Brings the old hero-trees to the ground 
with a crash ! 

Hear the breakers' deepening roar, 
Driven like a herd of cattle 
In the wild stampede of battle, 
Trampling, trampling, trampling, to over- 
whelm the shore ! 



[19] 



Is it the end of all? 

Will the land crumble and fall? 

Nay, for a voice replies 

Out of the hidden skies, 
"Thus far, sea, shalt thou go, 
So long, O wind, shalt thou blow: 
Return to your bounds and cease, 
And let the earth have peace!" 

O Music, lead the way — 
The stormy night is past, 
Lift up our hearts to greet the day, 
And the joy of things that last. 

The dissonance and pain 
That mortals must endure, 
Are changed in thine immortal strain 
To something great and pure. 

True love will conquer strife, 
And strength from conflict flows, 
For discord is the thorn of life 
And harmony the rose. 

May, 1916. 



[20] 



FRANCE AND BELGIUM 



THE BELLS OF MALINES 

August 17, 1914 

The gabled roofs of old Malines 
Are russet red and gray and green, 
And o'er them in the sunset hour 
Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower. 
High in that rugged nest concealed, 
The sweetest bells that ever pealed, 
The deepest bells that ever rung, 
The lightest bells that ever sung, 
Are waiting for the master's hand 
To fling their music o'er the land. 

And shall they ring to-night, Malines? 
In nineteen hundred and fourteen, 
The frightful year, the year of woe, 
When fire and blood and rapine flow 
Across the land from lost Liege, 
Storm-driven by the German rage? 
The other carillons have ceased: 
Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diest, 
From Ghent and Bruges no voices come, 
Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb ! 



[23] 



But in thy belfry, O Malines, 
The master of the bells unseen 
Has climbed to where the keyboard stands, — 
To-night his heart is in his hands! 
Once more, before invasion's hell 
Breaks round the tower he loves so well, 
Once more he strikes the well-worn keys, 
And sends aerial harmonies 
Far-floating through the twilight dim 
In patriot song and holy hymn. 

O listen, burghers of Malines! 
Soldier and workman, pale beguine, 
And mother with a trembling flock 
Of children clinging to thy frock, — 
Look up and listen, listen all ! 
What tunes are these that gently fall 
Around you like a benison? 
"The Flemish Lion," "Brabangonne," 
"O brave Liege," and all the airs 
That Belgium in her bosom bears. 



[24] 



Ring up, ye silvery octaves high, 
Whose notes like circling swallows fly; 
And ring, each old sonorous bell, — 
"Jesu," "Maria," "Michael!" 
Weave in and out, and high and low, 
The magic music that you know, 
And let it float and flutter down 
To cheer the heart of the troubled town. 
Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all, — 
"Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call! 

O brave bell-music of Malines, 

In this dark hour how much you mean ! 

The dreadful night of blood and tears 

Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears 

Deep in her heart the melody 

Of songs she learned when she was free. 

She will not falter, faint, nor fail, 

But fight until her rights prevail 

And all her ancient belfries ring 

"The Flemish Lion," "God Save the King ! " 



[25] 



THE NAME OF FRANCE 

♦ 

Give us a name to fill the mind 
With the shining thoughts that lead man- 
kind, 
The glory of learning, the joy of art, — 
A name that tells of a splendid part 
In the long, long toil and the strenuous fight 
Of the human race to win its way 
From the feudal darkness into the day 
Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right, — 
A name like a star, a name of light. 
I give you France! 

Give us a name to stir the blood 

With a warmer glow and a swifter flood, 

At the touch of a courage that knows not 

fear, — 
A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear, 
And silver-sweet, and iron-strong, 
That calls three million men to their feet, 
Ready to march, and steady to meet 
The foes who threaten that name with 

wrong, — 
A name that rings like a battle-song. 
I give you France! 



[26] 



Give us a name to move the heart 
With the strength that noble griefs impart, 
A name that speaks of the blood outpoured 
To save mankind from the sway of the 

sword, — 
A name that calls on the world to share 
In the burden of sacrificial strife 
When the cause at stake is the world's free 

life 
And the rule of the people everywhere, — 
A name like a vow, a name like a prayer. 
I give you France! 

The Hague, September, 1916. 



[27] 



JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS 

1914-1916 

What hast thou done, O womanhood of 
France, 
Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, 

wife, 
What hast thou done, amid this fateful 
strife, 
To prove the pride of thine inheritance 
In this fair land of freedom and romance? 
I hear thy voice with tears and courage 

rife, — 
Smiling against the swords that seek thy 
life- 
Make answer in a noble utterance: 
"I give France all I have, and all she asks. 
Would it were more! Ah, let her ask 
and take: 
My hands to nurse her wounded, do her 
tasks, — 
My feet to run her errands through the 
dark, — 
My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake, — 
And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne 
d'Arc!" 

April 16, 1916. 



[28] 



INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND 



THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF 
HOLLAND 

The heavenly hills of Holland, — 

How wondrously they rise 
Above the smooth green pastures 

Into the azure skies ! 
With blue and purple hollows, 

With peaks of dazzling snow, 
Along the far horizon 

The clouds are marching slow. 

No mortal foot has trodden 

The summits of that range, 
Nor walked those mystic valleys 

Whose colors ever change; 
Yet we possess their beauty, 

And visit them in dreams, 
While the ruddy gold of sunset 

From cliff and canyon gleams. 

In days of cloudless weather 

They melt into the light; 
When fog and mist surround us 

They're hidden from our sight; 
But when returns a season 

Clear shining after rain, 
While the northwest wind is blowing, 

We see the hills again. 

[31] 



The old Dutch painters loved them, 

Their pictures show them clear, — 
Old Hobbema and Ruysdael, 

Van Goyen and Vermeer. 
Above the level landscape, 

Rich polders, long-armed mills, 
Canals and ancient cities, — 

Float Holland's heavenly hills. 

The Hague, November, 1916. 



[82] 



THE PROUD LADY 

When Stavoren town was in its prime 
And queened the Zuyder Zee, 

Its ships went out to every clime 
With costly merchantry. 

A lady dwelt in that rich town, 

The fairest in all the land; 
She walked abroad in a velvet gown, 

With many rings on her hand. 

Her hair was bright as the beaten gold, 

Her lips as coral red, 
Her roving eyes were blue and bold, 

And her heart with pride was fed. 

For she was proud of her father's ships, 
As she watched them gayly pass; 

And pride looked out of her eyes and lips 
When she saw herself in the glass. 

"Now come," she said to the captains ten, 
Who were ready to put to sea, 

"Ye are all my men and my father's men, 
And what will ye do for me?" 

"Go north and south, go east and west, 

And get me gifts," she said. 
"And he who bringeth me home the best, 

With that man will I wed." 
[33] 



So they all fared forth, and sought with care 

In many a famous mart, 
For satins and silks and jewels rare, 

To win that lady's heart. 

She looked at them all with never a thought, 

And careless put them by; 
"I am not fain of the things ye brought, 

Enough of these have I." 

The last that came was the head of the fleet, 

His name was Jan Borel; 
He bent his knee at the lady's feet, — 

In truth he loved her well. 

"I've brought thee home the best i' the 
world, 

A shipful of Danzig corn ! " 
She stared at him long; her red lips curled, 

Her blue eyes filled with scorn. 

"Now out on thee, thou feckless kerl, 

A loon thou art," she said. 
"Am I a starving beggar girl? 

Shall I ever lack for bread?" 

"Go empty all thy sacks of grain 

Into the nearest sea, 
And never show thy face again 

To make a mock of me." 
[34] 



Young Jan Borel, he answered naught, 

But in the harbor cast 
The sacks of golden corn he brought, 

And groaned when fell the last. 

Then Jan Borel, he hoisted sail, 

And out to sea he bore; 
He passed the Helder in a gale 

And came again no more. 

But the grains of corn went drifting down 

Like devil-scattered seed, 
To sow the harbor of the town 

With a wicked growth of weed. 

The roots were thick and the silt and sand 

Were gathered day by day, 
Till not a furlong out from land 

A shoal had barred the way. 

Then Stavoren town saw evil years, 

No ships could out or in, 
The boats lay rotting at the piers, 

And the mouldy grain in the bin. 

The grass-grown streets were all forlorn, 

The town in ruin stood, 
The lady's velvet gown was torn, 

Her rings were sold for food. 

[35] 



Her father had perished long ago, 

But the lady held her pride, 
She walked with a scornful step and slow, 

Till at last in her rags she died. 

Yet still on the crumbling piers of the town, 
When the midnight moon shines free, 

A woman walks in a velvet gown 
And scatters corn in the sea. 



[36] 



FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS 

In Holland 

The laggard winter ebbed so slow 
With freezing rain and melting snow, 
It seemed as if the earth would stay 
Forever where the tide was low, 
In sodden green and watery gray. 

But now from depths beyond our sight, 
The tide is turning in the night, 
And floods of color long concealed 
Come silent rising toward the light, 
Through garden bare and empty field. 

And first, along the sheltered nooks, 
The crocus runs in little brooks 
Of joyance, till by light made bold 
They show the gladness of their looks 
In shining pools of white and gold. 

The tiny scilla, sapphire blue, 

Is gently seeping in, to strew 

The earth with heaven; and sudden rills 

Of sunlit yellow, sweeping through, 

Spread into lakes of daffodils. 



[37] 



The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, 
Have overflowed their sandy beds, 
And fill the earth with faint perfume, 
The breath that Spring around her sheds. 
And now the tulips break in bloom ! 

A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea, 
A splendor and a mystery, 
Floods o'er the fields of faded gray: 
The roads are full of folks in glee, 
For lo, — to-day is Easter Day ! 

April, 1916. 



[38] 



ENTER AMERICA 



AMERICA'S PROSPERITY 

They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold 
In glittering flood has poured into thy 

chest; 
Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns 
are pressed 
With harvest, and thy stores can hardly 

hold 
Their merchandise; unending trains are 
rolled 
Along thy network rails of East and West; 
Thy factories and forges never rest; 
Thou art enriched in all things bought and 
sold ! 

But dost thou prosper? Better news I 
crave. 
O dearest country, is it well with thee 
Indeed, and is thy soul in health? 
A nobler people, hearts more wisely brave, 
And thoughts that lift men up and make 
them free, — 
These are prosperity and vital wealth ! 

The Hague, October 1, 1916. 



[41] 



THE GLORY OF SHIPS 

The glory of ships is an old, old song, 
since the days when the sea-rovers ran 

In their open boats through the roaring surf, 
and the spread of the world began; 

The glory of ships is a light on the sea, 
and a star in the story of man. 

When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece 
that conquered the Trojan shore, 

And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre that 
brought great wealth to his door, 

'Twas little they knew, those ancient men, 
what would come of the sail and the oar. 

The Greek ships rescued the West from the 
East, 
when they harried the Persians home; 
And the Roman ships were the wings of 
strength 
that bore up the empire, Rome; 
And the ships of Spain found a wide new 
world, 
far over the fields of foam. 



[42] 



Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear 
that the ocean was not a bound, 

But a broad highway, and a challenge to 
seek 
for treasure as yet unfound; 

So the fearless ships fared forth to the search, 
in joy that the globe was round. 

Their hulls were heightened, their sails 
spread out, 

they grew with the growth of their quest; 
They opened the secret doors of the East, 

and the golden gates of the West; 
And many a city of high renown 

was proud of a ship on its crest. 

The fleets of England and Holland and 
France 
were at strife with each other and Spain; 
And battle and storm sent a myriad ships 

to sleep in the depths of the main; 
But the seafaring spirit could never be 
drowned, 
and it filled up the fleets again. 



[43] 



They greatened and grew, with the aid of 
steam, 
to a wonderful, vast array, 
That carries the thoughts and the traffic of 
men 
into every harbor and bay; 
And now in the world-wide work of the ships 
'tis England that leads the way. 

O well for the leading that follows the law 
of a common right on the sea ! 

But ill for the leader who tries to hold 
what belongs to mankind in fee ! 

The way of the ships is an open way, 
and the ocean must ever be free! 

Remember, O first of the maritime folk, 
how the rise of your greatness began. 

It will live if you safeguard the round-the- 
world road 
from the shame of a selfish ban; 

For the glory of ships is a light on the sea, 
and a star in the story of man! 

September 12, 1916. 



44] 



MARE LIBERUM 



You dare to say with perjured lips, 
"We fight to make the ocean free"? 
You, whose black trail of butchered ships 
Bestrews the bed of every sea 
Where German submarines have wrought 
Their horrors ! Have you never thought, — 
What you call freedom, men call piracy ! 



ii 

Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave, 
Where you have murdered, cry you down; 
And seamen whom you would not save, 
Weave now in weed-grown depths a crown 
Of shame for your imperious head, — 
A dark memorial of the dead, — 
Women and children whom you sent to 
drown. 

in 

Nay, not till thieves are set to guard 
The gold, and corsairs called to keep 
O'er peaceful commerce watch and ward, 
And wolves to herd the helpless sheep, 
Shall men and women look to thee, 
Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea, 
To safeguard law and freedom on the deep ! 

[45] 



IV 

In nobler breeds we put our trust: 

The nations in whose sacred lore 

The "Ought" stands out above the "Must," 

And honor rules in peace and war. 

With these we hold in soul and heart, 

With these we choose our lot and part, 

Till Liberty is safe on sea and shore. 

London Times, February 12, 1917. 



[46] 



"LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE 
WORLD" 

Thou warden of the western gate, above 

Manhattan Bay, 
The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are 

driven clean away: 
Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou 

liftest high thy hand 
To spread the light of liberty world-wide 

for every land. 

No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved 
alone for thee, 

While friends are fighting for thy cause be- 
yond the guardian sea: 

The battle that they wage is thine; thou fall- 
est if they fall; 

The swollen flood of Prussian pride will 
sweep unchecked o'er all. 

O cruel is the conquer-lust in Hohenzollern 
brains : 

The paths they plot to gain their goal are 
dark with shameful stains: 

No faith they keep, no law revere, no god 
but naked Might; — 

They are the foemen of mankind. Up, Lib- 
erty, and smite ! 

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Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia 

newly born, 
Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, 

come as comes the morn ! 
Serene and strong and full of faith, America, 

arise, 
With steady hope and mighty help to join 

thy brave Allies. 

O dearest country of my heart, home of the 
high desire, 

Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Free- 
dom's altar-fire: 

For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until 
the war-lords cease, 

And all the peoples lif t their heads in liberty 
and peace. 

London Times, April 12, 1917. 



[48] 



THE OXFORD THRUSHES 

February, 1917 

I never thought again to hear 
The Oxford thrushes singing clear, 
Amid the February rain, 
Their sweet, indomitable strain. 

A wintry vapor lightly spreads 
Among the trees, and round the beds 
Where daffodil and jonquil sleep, 
Only the snowdrop wakes to weep. 

It is not springtime yet. Alas, 
What dark, tempestuous days must pass, 
Till England's trial by battle cease, 
And summer comes again with peace. 

The lofty halls, the tranquil towers, 
Where Learning in untroubled hours 
Held her high court, serene in fame, 
Are lovely still, yet not the same. 

The novices in fluttering gown 
No longer fill the ancient town, 
But fighting men in khaki drest — 
And in the Schools the wounded rest. 



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Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies 
Full many a son of Oxford lies, 
And whispers from his warrior grave, 
"I died to keep the faith you gave." 

The mother mourns, but does not fail, 
Her courage and her love prevail 
O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears 
The promise of triumphant years. 

Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain 
Your sweet indomitable strain. 
Ye bring a word from God on high 
And voices in our hearts reply. 



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HOMEWARD BOUND 

Home, for my heart still calls me; 

Home, through the danger zone; 
Home, whatever befalls me, 

I will sail again to my own ! 

Wolves of the sea are hiding 

Closely along the way, 
Under the water biding 

Their moment to rend and slay. 

Black is the eagle that brands them, 
Black are their hearts as the night, 

Black is the hate that sends them 
To murder but not to fight. 

Flower of the German Culture, 
Boast of the Kaiser's Marine, 

Choose for your emblem the vulture, 
Cowardly, cruel, obscene ! 

Forth from her sheltered haven 
Our peaceful ship glides slow, 

Noiseless in flight as a raven, 
Gray as a hoodie crow. 



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She doubles and turns in her bearing, 
Like a twisting plover she goes; 

The way of her westward faring 
Only the captain knows. 

In a lonely bay concealing 
She lingers for days, and slips 

At dusk from her covert, stealing 
Thro' channels feared by the ships. 

Brave are the men, and steady, 
Who guide her over the deep, — 

British mariners, ready 
To face the sea-wolf's leap. 

Lord of the winds and waters, 
Bring our ship to her mark, 

Safe from this game of hide-and-seek 
With murderers in the dark! 

On the S. S. Baltic, May, 1917. 



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